


Beneath The Weirwood

by Lylanne (orphan_account)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-06-25 01:37:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19735738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Lylanne
Summary: A Modern Daensa AU.Daenerys Targaryen is a transfer student to King's Preparatory, a boarding school filled to the brim with drama and danger. Dany is the only living child of the infamous Targaryen empire, whose strange past draws the attentions of Sansa Stark.





	1. Sansa Stark

**Author's Note:**

> As requested by @lazy-bird on Tumblr. Thank you for the suggestion, go check them out!
> 
> Many chapters planned, this is just an introductory taste. Thank you for reading💛

Sansa was on a mission, and no amount of curteous "heys", "how are yous", or "where you going?", would stop her.

She thrust the East Doors open and sped-walked to the Lacrosse field. As expected, they were mid practice, bantering and swinging their sticks about like imbeciles.

Theon Greyjoy stood off a ways, gulping water as of he were dying of thirst. Sansa made a bee-line for him, and his eyes widened in fear as she walked up to him. 

He knew.

"Where is he?" She demanded, clipping her words to a curt rythmn.

Theon, bless his dumbass, feigned surprise, 

"Whom?" He replied, leaning against the metal fence.

Sansa glared at him, boring cracks into his resolve.

"Oh, you mean Robb?" He asked, his false innocence ruined by the tremble in his voice. Sansa nodded.

Theon sighed, "He's in the West Dorms."

"Thank you, Theon," She said, already turning to leave.

"Don't tell him I told you!" Theon cried, his voice ringing with desperation.

"Sansa! Don't you dare tell him it was me!"

But Sansa had already made her way out of the Lacrosse field, walking towards the West Dorms, a michevious smile creeping upon her face.

Not for nothing, Sansa admired the audacity of her elder brother. It was truly astonishing how absent he was from the world around him. How unattatched he was to the weight of his actions. Robb lived in that auspicious rich-kid bubble. Sansa supposed she did too, but he ran it the extra mile.

She could've laughed, if only she weren't so pissed off.

The West Dorms were situated two flights of stairs up from the ground floor, catching all the glory of the setting sun in it's many grand windows. This was the Girl's hall, and even after all her years there, it still felt foreign to her.

Regardless, Sansa had a far more urgent goal. If rumor served, she'd find her brother in the furtherst corner of the Dorms, by the Bath Hall.

Her hips swayed as she walked, radiating the confidence of one ready to speak their mind. Her breath caught in her haste, coming short and furious.

At last she reached the Bath Hall, regaining control over her breathing.

A subtle clash of music touched Sansa's ears. She almost burst into shameless giggling.

_No fucking way, he was_ not _listening to that fucking song._

Yet sure as shit, she found Robb with his tounge halfway down Jeyne Westerling's throat, holding her tight and possesively, while "Can't Fight This Feeling" blared from his tacky hand radio.

It took everything in her not to break down laughing, he was way too much.

"REO Speedwagon, really?"

She finally said, humor lacing the words. A smirk rose to her lips, as she stuck out a hip, arms crossed.

Robb jumped back, shocked at the interruption. Jeyne gave a small yelp, embarrassed.

Anger flashed in his eyes, but it was immediately replaced with annoyance when he saw the interferer was Sansa.

"God, Sansa," he groaned, "Go away you pervert."

"I'm the pervert?" She pressed, "I'm not the one dry humping my girlfriend in the Bath Hall."

Jeyne gave a cough, clearly scandalized by the statement.

"Leave," Sansa said, trying very hard to intimidate the girl. Jeyne stared incredulous to Robb. He glared at Sansa, but eventually,

"I'll talk to you later," He said, urging Jeyne to leave. She huffed, straightening her shirt and casting Sansa a nasty look before leaving.

He leaned against the wall, exasperated.

"What?" He insisted, layering his voice with thick irritation.

"You're late."

"What?" He asked, eyebrows raising in genuine confusion, cracking his facade.

"The exchange kid arrives today and Cersei assigned you to guide them."

Realization struck his face, 

"Oh shit! I completely forgot," He said.

She cocked an eyebrow. He held up his hands,

"What? I've been doing things."

" 'Things'? Funny, Robb. I didn't think you saw Jeyne Westerling as a 'thing.'"

"Oh fuck off. Just because I manage a committed relationship-,"

"Committed?" Sansa interjected, her previous point derailed by his statement.

"Yes, committed. You ever managed that?"

He spoke with a shocking assurance considering how wrong he was.

"Forgive me, but 'committed,' is bit of stretch when not two weeks ago you were sucking Margaery Tyrell's face in this exact spot, not _one_ _month_ after you began this gallant 'committed relationship."

The color drained from his face. "Who told you?"

"Who cares, Robb. I don't, it doesn't matter. What matters is you're still very fucking late to an assignment from _Cersei Lannister_."

"It was Theon, wasn't it?" He asked, still infuriatingly stuck on the topic of his cheating.

"Of course it was Theon! Now pay attetion." She snapped, her heart racing from debate.

"Right, sorry." 

But he stood still. Sansa didn't catch on until his eyes went soft, his expression melting to a plea.

"No," she said, trying to ignore his puppy dog eyes. 

He looked down, his shoulders slumping, eyes to the ground. He gave a pathetic shrug.

"No. Dammit, Robb. It's _your_ responsibilty."

He sniffed, a sad nod his only movement. She would not fold. She would not fold.

She-

"Fine!" She said, flinging her arms up in defeat. His sorrow melted away, a huge grin overtaking his face, "But you get to tell Cersei why your sister had to cover your ass."

"Sansa, can't you see?" He faked a cough, spit flying from his mouth, "I'm, terribly, awfully sick."

"Right."

He hugged her quick and began to walk in the direction Jeyne had ran.

"Asshole!" She called after him. He gave her a thumbs up, walking swiftly away.

...

She made her way to the Central Office muttering insults now and then towards Robb. She'd found it to be a cathartic process.

Two flights down, a hallway or so later, Sansa had come face with the glass door to the Central Office. A stain glass Stag decorated the door, indicative of their current headmaster, Robert Baratheon. He was as useless as he was crass.

She entered the Office. It smelled like sweat and caramel, the heat of the room melting Dean Varys' bowl of chewy candies. He sat at the desk, scribbling words on a sheet of paper, oblivious to the world around him.

Sansa cleared her throat, scratching her arm in a nervous wait. Varys peered up at her, his face giving away nothing. He plastered a well meaning smile to his face, eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Miss Stark," he said, his voice always more gentle than she'd anticipated.

"Dean."

He smiled through the silence, but even so, the smile left his eyes.

"What do you want?" He asked, hidden amusement peeking through his presentation.

"I'm supposed to be guide to the new exchange student." The lie passed easily enough through her mouth, for a moment she dreamed she'd get away with it.

"Miss Stark. Sansa. I am, of course, proud to see such eagar spirit in a student such as yourself, but we both know you brother Robb is the assigned guide."

"He's sick," she said, far too quickly.

Varys sighed, "Is this even worth arguing?"

Sansa shook her head.

He tapped his finger absently, before sighing once more, holding a manila folder towards her.

Sansa grabbed at it, but before letting go he leaned in, forcing her to do so was well,

"Make kind on your impression, Miss Stark. She's very pretty."

Sansa nearly froze. Surely he couldn't know. But the smirk in his expression argued otherwise.

"Right," she said, a subtle shake in her inflection. She rose, attempting normalcy.

"She's waiting in in the Commons. No doubt being gawked and questioned by our hive mind student body."

Sansa let out a short breath, a replacement for the laughter she was certain he meant to cause.

"Bye." She called, head tilted down to the floor, as she walked from the room. If he answered, Sansa did not know.

The Commons were located just left of the Central Office, so Sansa took care with her steps, looking over the manila folder. Shedules, Maps, and Student Codes filled it's contents, until at last she reached the 'Guide Information' sheet.

And there, sitting calm and inconsequential on the sheet, read

_Student Name: Daenerys Targaryen_

"Holy shit!" Sansa exclaimed, causing a girl walking past her to jump.

She held the paper close to her face, making absolute sure she'd read the name correctly.

She had.

A fucking Targaryen.

  
  
  
  
  



	2. Sansa Stark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the warm response from the first chapter! This one is a bit short, but I've worked out an upload schedule so there's many more to come very soon.
> 
> Thank you for reading💛

The Commons were a constant hub of activity, stagnating at various periods of the day and peaking at 4:45 p.m., too early for dinner, and far too early to return to their rooms.

Sansa feared it may be impossible to find the Targaryen girl in the student traffic, but she was in fact rather conspicuous, poised perfect and conserved.

She was short, nearly a head smaller than Sansa, with silvery white hair tied back in a braid. 

Dean Varys had been right, she was very pretty. 

Sansa moved quicker, eager to meet the girl, Daenerys, according to the folder. But when she was merely ten paces away, Quentyn Martell forced his way to the new student, signature smirk already in place.

He spoke low to her, too low for Sansa to distinguish. She sighed to herself, Quentyn was suave, every Martell was. It was some sort of family trait. He and Arianne held an electric charisma, even Sansa had fallen charm now and again. 

But Daenerys did not act in the way most girls would when a Martell heir strolled up to her with interest; she raised one eyebrow and stared at him, unimpressed.

Her expression was so subtly harsh, Sansa began to feel pity for Quentyn. It seemed now or never was her cue.

She approached the both of them, clearing her throat a touch too loud.

Quentyn threw her an annoyed look, 

"What do you want, Stark?"

Sansa smiled, all traces of pity gone, "I want you to stop flirting with my new student. I've a tour to give and you're not in the schedule."

He rolled his eyes, amused and a bit embarrassed, "Isn't it too early to be so possessive?"

"We possess objects, not people." Sansa shot back.

"Think you're clever?"

"Compared to you?"

He laughed, moving aside, "I'll give you Stark bunch this: you're all rather quick." 

He nodded to Daenerys, who had grown uninterested in her and Quentyn's banter, taking instead to stare at the tile mosaics on the floor. Then he left, gait still radiating pride. 

"Did he bother you?" Sansa asked, stepping closer to Daenerys, who shook her head.

"No, he was properly courteous. Probably fancied himself more dashing than I found him, but entertaining still."

She spoke with a measured tongue, words picked and displayed with a care Sansa herself usually reserved for formal events. 

Though, she supposed if ever she'd imagined what a Targaryen would sound like, that was it.

"Yeah," Sansa chimed in, hand tight around the manila folder, "He's a stretch. His sister is far more adept to beguile."

"Beguile?" Daenerys echoed, her tone retaining both impression and surprise.

"It's a nice essay word." Sansa justified.

Daenerys nodded, eyes flitting around the room. She returned them to Sansa and the taller girl was amazed; Daenerys had striking violet eyes. They were made even brighter by the pale purple sundress she wore, right arm playing with the skirt of it.

"Are you my guide?" She questioned, edging her voice to uncertainty. It was probably all the damn staring.

Sansa waited a moment, still lost in observation, then, "Yes. I'm Sansa Stark, vice president of the Student Leadership Association, and I'll be taking you on your tour." She added a swift salute, gaining a smile from the Daenerys before continuing.

She offered her arm, and Daenerys took it, her skin brushing warm against Sansa's.

"Any bags or luggage brought along with you-,"

"Oh, I already checked it in," Daenerys said, looking in interest at the busy room.

"Great. Well, let's just jump in. You're standing now in The Commons, it is the first room introduced to anyone who walks through our grand doors. It is the designated hang out of eager underclassmen and bored upperclassmen." Sansa's voice took a cynical edge she hadn't intended, but Daenerys seemed engaged either way. 

"It's beautiful," Daenerys said, losing attention to the rising pillars, decorative stained glass windows illuminating the room with the harsh evening sun. 

"It's-well, yes it is. Shall we continue?"

Daenerys nodded, but her gaze became fixed on one mosaic; A fierce dragon whose construction hugged the walls, and whose fire stretched across the floor. It was one of Sansa's favorite pieces, but Daenerys moved back, as if some unseen force pushed her away. 

"This way." Sansa pulled. Daenerys gave easily, a new desperation to continue. Sansa led her through the construction of the school, starting in the southern end of the building, which was simply classrooms, the dining hall, the Central Office, and various teacher offices.

Daenerys absorbed it all, interest coming and going from her at a far slower rate than it did Sansa. 

The west end of the school was shockingly vacant, the odd student or two would filter through, stopping only if surprised at a silver haired girl walking arm in arm with Sansa Stark. 

The east end of the school held more promise, but Sansa dreaded the abundant amount of stairs scattered about that gave the east end six distinct levels. 

She'd been rather lax with her speech, and decided to talk directly with Daenerys. She had, after all, chosen to take the Moon Bridge that connected the East and West, and it was solemn walk without conversation.

"Daenerys," she began, not yet sure of how she meant to follow it, "I-,"

"Dany." She interrupted.

"I'm sorry?" Sansa posed, tilting her head.

"You can call me Dany. It's a nickname."

"Oh. Right. Well, Dany, I wanted only to be open with you."

"Oh, please," She said, a grin lighting up all the beauty she had. 

Sansa pulled her off to the side, checking to make certain of their exclusivity. Only a draft from the open windows bade the company.

Her goal became clear, she had to be upfront, it's all she'd wished for herself when she began schooling here, and it was all she wished to offer Dany.

"It feels, wrong, if I don't prepare you completely for what life is, and what life isn't here."

Dany nodded along, but her expression shifted to defense. 

"I can't teach you every intricacy, hell, I hardly know them all myself, but," Sansa searched for the right words, desperate to convey her point exactly, "You must be careful. This is no normal school. Drama and teenage antics? Of course, that's a given with any concentrated group of people. But these aren't normal kids. They're kids of influence, power. Step the wrong way, you may scar yourself for the rest of life, far beyond these stone walls."

Dany stared at her, a thousand questions racing through her violet eyes. But in the end she only looked to the floor, shoulders slumped morose, 

"I'm already scared by the burden of my name," She said. Almost the way a child might grunt an unpleasant resolve. 

And Sansa remembered. She was a Targaryen. Disgraced and judged by virtue of her name alone. 

Sansa wished to reply an assuring statement, but her words were lost when the beat of footsteps encased the Moon Bridge. 

She peaked out from the corner she'd led Dany, and regretted it immediately. She threw herself back into the corner, careful to elongate her deep breath.

"What is it?" Dany asked, moving to peek. Sansa forced her back, a new austere dominating her usual courtesy.

"Someone you don't want to know," Sansa said, her demeanor growing darker by the moment.

But their cover had been blown.


	3. Daenerys Targaryen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading💛

Dany had, naturally, built up expectation and fantasy about what her transfer to Kings Predatory would entail. 

But all her daydreams and assumptions had not prepared her to be now held tight by a Stark daughter in a corner.

Sansa kept her eyes upwards, as if praying to a deity. Dany felt desperate to know what was racing through her head. She may have voiced her new desire, but Sansa's austere killed any intention of Dany's to speak.

Then she heard it: The soft click of footsteps walking towards them. 

Part Dany tried to sympathize with her guide. Perhaps Sansa had rational purpose and decision with her action. Another part wanted to break from her firm grip and confront whomever it was Sansa so feared.

The footsteps drew closer and stopped,

"Sansa?" A male voice called, saying her name in a curt click.

"Fuck." Sansa whispered, letting Dany go to hold her arms close to herself, all the bravado and wit from earlier draining out of Sansa quickly.

She cursed a few more times beneath her breath, and then stepped from the corner, forcing her posture down and training her eyes on the floor. Dany followed behind, still ignorant to the situation.

A boy, who Dany could only assume was the same age as her and Sansa, waited, arrogance radiating from him. He was blond, face contorted to a mean amusement.

Dany knew his type. 

She knew the glint of pride in his eyes, the stance he assumed, broad and intimidating. She knew that unkind smile, twisted and cruel. Her brother had been similar, and at once she also knew Sansa's deflation.

"Well, then, Sansa. How coincidental to find you here. And with a girl, of all possibilities," he looked Dany over, unimpressed and uninterested. He whipped his head back to Sansa, "You really aren't trying at all to combat those rumors, are you?"

Sansa glared daggers at him, breath heavy and measured. Then, as if a switch had flipped in her brain, she smiled, demure and sweet.

"It is a coincidence, Joffrey. This is-," She stared at Dany, weighing a decision in her mind, "Dany. She's a new student. Your mother instructed me to give her a tour."

"Oh," Joffrey said, layering his inflection sky high with mockery, "That sounds ridiculously boring."

"Ridiculously." Sansa echoed, edging slightly to the side, indicating a passage for him to kindly fuck off through.

"I just said so. God, you're still so stupid." He scrunched his nose, as if Sansa were some putrid mass he couldn't stand.

She didn't dignify Joffrey with a response, just kept her eyes trained on him, daring him to something, anything.

Joffrey's smile slipped, turning dark and irritated, "Still a bland whore." He spat. 

He then pointed a finger at Dany, eyes on fire, "You stay clear of her. She's unbearably dull." He laughed, thinking himself clever.

Then he walked through them, brushing so close to Sansa she stumbled back on impact. A gloom lifted from the room when the clicks of his steps left the bridge floor.

"Well he seemed delightful," Dany said, still incredulous at Joffrey's appalling behavior.

Sansa did not answer, she looked skywards again, and if Dany peered critically, she could see the reflection of tears brimming Sansa's eyes. In unthinking reaction, Dany placed a hand on Sansa's arm, extending what comfort she could. 

Sansa moved her arm, pulling them closer to herself once more.

"Sorry," Sansa finally said, "It's all rather pathetic." 

Dany wanted to assure her, but Sansa was already standing taller, swiping tears away deftly with her hand. She took one more breath before turning back to Dany, a grin shining upon her face.

"The West Wing." Sansa introduced, closing all discussion of their enounter for good.

They walked into a moderate corridor, Dany staring in awe at the many tapatries hanging vertical on the wall, embroidered in every color and size, displaying scenes of beauty or terror. 

From her perephrial, Dany could swear a tapestry moved unprompted, but Sansa kept moving, and Dany forced herself to ignore it.

"This is the West Wing. Here on our ground floor is the tapestry hall and the Bath Hall, one being far more a necessity than the other," Sansa said, moving a bit swifter than she had before Joffrey.

Sansa kept to a script, moving Dany from hall to hall, explaining history and intricacy so fast Dany had to ignore it all after awhile, detaching completely from her tour.

At last, Sansa reached the dorms, the conclusion of the tour slowing her down somewhat. 

The dorm hall was long, split at the center by an open space packed with couches and coffee tables. 

Brilliant golden light enveliped the space, provided by a grand French window. Sansa stopped, turning to Dany.

"You're room 365 L, so you'll be at the end of the left hallway," she said, gesturing her arm left, "You won't have a roomate, as you're a mid term transfer, so enjoy the solitude. Your bags will be in your room, and I'll be back at six to give you some papers and lead you to supper."

She paused, thinking intently, until,

"I think that's all. I have to leave you here, but I'll see you soon. Goodluck."

"Thank you," Dany said. 

Sansa nodded. She walked towards the right hallway, turning back to wave.

...

Dany's room was small, facing the furthest west, encased in that beautiful setting sun.

Her window overlooked a vast garden, a student or two visable over the shrubbary.

She turned to find her bags had been placed on a chest that sat below her bed, their weight causing the occasional creak now and then from the wooden chest. 

Dany threw herself into the bed, relishing in the immediate relaxation of her muscles, soothed by the fluff of the comforter. 

Here she could rest.

Quiet came at once, allowing her thoughts to return, loud and abrasive. She did what she could to escape them most hours, surrounding herself in constant stimulation. But there were no distractions in this isolation.

_Knock._

Dany thought she'd imagined it, dismissing the knock as quickly as it occurred.

_Knock knock._

But two more came aggresive and quick. She curled into the comforter, digging her face in the blanket.

_Knock knock_.

Fine.

Dany sat up, her mood soured instantly. She stalked to her door, opening it with flamboyant theatrics.

Nothing. 

Her doorway was void of anyone. A chill ran up her spine, paranoia creeping to the front of her mind. She scanned the area around her door, but no one was there. Then she saw it.

A note tucked in the door handle. Dany took it, giving one last look around the hall.

She closed her door, note in hand. The sunset fallen almost entirely behind the trees, casting grim shadows along her room. 

Curiousity tugged at her, but hesitation persisted.

Finally, she opened the note:

_Fire and Blood has come at last_ _. Be careful._

Dany puzzled over the note: What the everloving fuck did that mean?


	4. Sansa Stark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading💛
> 
> Also: This interpretation of Myranda is based on Myranda Royce from ASOIAF not the TV version.

Sansa felt somewhat guilty to leave Dany so abruptly, but she refused to lose her shit infront of someone she hardly knew. 

Mya was already in Sansa's room, mindlessly gazing at a textbook. Mya was a recent friend to Sansa, but already her closest confidante. She lit up when Sansa came in, her enthusiasm capping when she noted Sansa's distress.

"What is it?" Mya asked, moving to a sitting position and patting a place for Sansa. Sansa gladly fell to the bed, taking Mya's offered hand.

"It's silly."

"Sansa," Mya started, stern and comanding, "If it makes you upset, it isn't silly. It's literally the opposite."

Sansa laughed inspite of herself, "I suppose."

"'I suppose,'" Mya mocked, "Come on. What is it?"

Sansa shook her head, then turned to face Mya. Mya's eyes were brilliant blue today, and the peirced at the walls Sansa was struggling to keep.

At last Sansa sighed, "I saw Joffrey today. And, normally I'm fine. He's hardly a force, but I was caught off gaurd and just...froze."

Mya nodded, her eyebrows furrowing and hand gripping tighter. She huffed,

"He's a grade A dick. I'm sorry."

Quiet lapsed between them.

Sansa focused on the patterns of her bedding. Flowers weaving in and out of the blanket in infinancy.

Their peace was broken by a brash knock on the door.

"Margaery?" Mya called.

"Why would she knock on her own door you dumb slut?" A voice replied, thick with arrogance. Mya rolled her eyes and Sansa cursed.

"Myranda," They said in harmony.

Mya shuffled to the door, dragging her feet. Myranda Royce burst in as soon as Mya moved the handle.

"Sansa!" Myranda shouted, urgency dripping from her, "How could you guide a Targaryen around without telling me?"

"You did what?" Mya asked, her own eyes bulging.

"How the hell did you know that?" Sansa demanded.

"Oh my God, Sansa. It's all over Quentyn's story. He saw you escort her from the commons." 

Myranda spread herself down the center of the bed, passing her phone to Sansa. On it, Quentyn Martell had positioned his camera over his shoulder, clearly displaying Dany taking Sansa's arm.

_Y'all ever just see a Stark and Targaryen arm in arm?_

_No one tell Ned_ 😳

He'd captioned.

"Clever," Sansa said, handing Myranda's phone back to her.

"He's an absolute dumbass but he knew your shit before I did. As your best friend, that's offensive."

"Myranda, you aren't even my _friend_ friend."

"Regardless. It's insulting." She huffed, twisting her hair and using her phone's screen as a mirror.

Mya sat beside Sansa, eyes rolled sky high at Myranda's ostentatious presence. 

She then nudged Sansa, "You didn't say you knew a Targaryen."

"Not just any Targaryen," Myranda teased, "Daenerys Targaryen. As in Aerys' daughter and Rhaegar's sister."

"Holy shit!" Mya blurted.

"Calm down," Sansa directed only to Myranda, "I don't know her. She's a transfer student, I was her student guide."

Myranda shrugged, "Who cares why. Sansa, you must know the rumors."

Sansa diverted her gaze to the carpet.

"No," Myranda said, feigning surprise, "You don't know a damn thing do you?"

Sansa raised her eyebrows, silently begging her to drop it.

"Are you a dumb bitch or just an ignorant bitch?"

"Myranda!" Mya scolded, shooting a glare at her.

"It's a genuine question." Myranda shot back.

"It's just," Sansa began, the curious eyes of Mya and Myranda boring into her, "My father doesn't like to talk about Targaryens. I don't really know anything."

Even Myranda shut up at that, if only for a moment.

"Tragic," she said apathetically. 

She rose from the bed, adjusting her bra far more dramatically than required and turned to face them, 

"Well, this is drab. I'll see you two around." And she left, leaving the door wide open.

"That was a bit rude," Mya said, moving back to her previous spot on the bed.

“When has she ever been courteous?” Sansa posed.

Mya laughed, settling down into Sansa’s generous stock of pillows.

Sansa moved to look out her window, the sun had finally begun to sink. From her window, she could she the courtyard that snuggled between the West and North Halls. Many students roamed about it, but she focused on the familiar figure of her little sister, Arya. She was fooling around at the edge of a pond while her annoyingly older friend Gendry looked on. Sansa had wanted to breech the subject of her sister’s odd friendship, but had never managed to come up with anything Arya would listen to.

“Mya?” Sansa asked, hoping just a fraction her friend had not heard her.

“Yeah?”

Damn. Sansa kept her eyes on her sister, working the question in her mind, “What is it?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I mean, what is it that makes Dany- Daenerys, stir up so much attention? Just for her name?”

Mya sighed. Moving to a sitting position, “It’s all gossip, but-”

“But?”

Mya looked at Sansa cautiously, only a glimmer of amusement in her eyes.

“But, there is a- perception of her. Disappearances, premature deaths…” Mya trailed off, the hint of a smile playing at her lips, “It’s all rather spooky.”

Sansa cocked one eyebrow, “You believe that garbage?”

“So you do know the rumors!”

“No, I don’t. But. Mya tell me, do you even know who supposedly disappeared?”

“Her brother.” Mya fired back.

“What?”

“God Sansa, you really know nothing about Targs, do you?”

“I do,” Sansa said, at once defensive.

“Really?”

“They started as animal breeders a century ago and raised themselves to an empire.”

Mya snorted, “That's it?”

Sansa’s silence was sufficient to answer. Mya shook her head, smiling broad and bemused,

“How I, a scholarship kid with no tie to this world, know more about Targs than you, the oldest of old money, is beyond me.”

“Oh, shut up,” Sansa said, plopping down on the bed once more. Mya shifted over, letting Sansa place her legs at the head of the bed. It was then she realized her door was still gaping open.

“Close the door.” Sansa whined, kicking a pillow to Mya.

Mya threw the pillow at Sansa’s face and got up, closing the door with great gusto.

_Knock knock knock knock_

Four knocks came in rapid succession, and Mya jumped back at the startling aggression.

She carefully opened the door, and Sansa looked through the gaps of Mya’s figure blocking the door. There was no one there.

Mya turned back to Sansa, eyes wide, “Spooky.”

Mya looked around and shrugged, but as she began to close the door Sansa saw it.

“Stop!” She shouted. Mya yelped at the volume of Sansa’s demand. Sansa sprang from the bed, grabbing at the small piece of paper outside her door. She stood, breath heavy from her spontaneous movement.

Mya closed the door again and raised an eyebrow, “What the fuck?”

Sansa brushed her criticism over and opened the paper, which had been folded over very precise and even.

_Only wolves howl at night._

_Will you endure?_

“Motivational,” Mya said, the faintest of nerves in her voice.

“Strange,” Sansa replied, “What does it mean?”

“Someone’s fucking with you?”

"Probably," Sansa said, convincing neither of them.

They settled back, fighting an uncomfortable edge. At last, the sun fell behind the trees and supper was called.


	5. Daenerys Targaryen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, that was a bit of time. Sorry to take so long, thank you for reading💛

With her phone dead, computer dead, and both chraging cords lost to the depths of her unpacked suitcase, Dany soon fell hostage to an unshakable bordem.

She'd thrown the note away, and chose to forget it. It was just a prank. Hopefully. God, even pranoia grew dull.

Sansa had insisted Dany stay and unpack, but Dany knew the minute she hit the bed no such action would be taken. 

She stood, brushing away the voice that whispered exploring was an inherently stupid thing to do.

...

Dany knew well enough that to find her way back to where the corridor split, she had to travel to her right. 

Her confidence was enhanced by the various strangers she passed, proving that plenty of people took leave from their rooms before supper.

She made her way out to the split, which was now lit by several lamps; the sun sunk completely to the evening. Every now and again she'd catch the curious eye, but for the most part people ignored her, which was fine. 

For now.

She traveled down a flight of stairs, trying in vain to remember Sansa's tour. Dany vaguely recalled that going right would lead her to the Bath Hall, and from there a corner would bring her back to the bridge, so she opted left.

Another stretch of corridor lay before her, long and bathed in warm lamp light. At the end of the corridor a narrow stair way broke to the right. 

She made her way down and through more twists and turns till the carpeted floor turned to cold stone, the occasional passersby turned to the solemn echo of her own foot steps. Even the lamps were placed further apart, assuming a far more archaic design.

Dany was so caught up in moving, it was not until she slammed into his body that she knew someone was there.

"Woah!" She cried, tripping beneath herself.

"Watch it!" The stranger grunted, breaking her fall. 

Dany pushed herself up, breathless.

"Sorry," she said, looking to her accidental bowling pin. 

He was short, dark hair pulled back with a tie. His chin was covered in an untamed beard Dany wasn't used to seeing on boys. In all, he was slightly unremarkable. His nose resembled Sansa's somewhat, but Dany was shocked by his eyes. 

They were brown, but the shape of them, the light ring around them, she _knew_ those eyes. Insane and impossible as it seemed, his eyes were her brother's. Rhaegar's eyes had that same slant to the bottom, that same crow's feet at the sides giving the eyes a youthful smile. No, the color was wrong. Still.

"Hello?" He asked, shifting his gaze and widening his eyes in discomfort.

Dany snapped from her mind, chasing her thought away with vicious haste.

"Oh, right. My apologies. I speant the effort to know where I was, I couldn't see where I was going. I'm Daenerys Targaryen." She held out a cordial hand, expecting a semblance of manners from him.

"Just watch where you're going. Especially considering who you are."

"Excuse me?" Dany's mouth gaped in disbelief, just who did he think he was?

"What?"

"Was that a threat?"

He laughed, "A promise. This is no place for Targs. You are aware Robert Baratheon is the headmaster here?"

"Should that be significant? I am no ignorant girl, I'm aware of what you all think of me and my family. I do not care. Your name?"

He leaned to his right foot, "Jon."

"Jon?"

"Echo?" He mocked.

She rolled her eyes, "Jon 'who'?"

"Just Jon."

She regarded him, trying to bite back her annoyance, "Very well. Where's the dining hall?"

"The dining hall? Is that where you were tryingng to go?" He was making fun her now.

"Yes." She bit back resentment.

"You might fancy turning back and taking the grand stairs down and to the left, then- actually, go back up to the West Wing and wait."

"Wait?"

"When the bell tolls for supper, you can follow the crowd."

"You mean you aren't even going to offer to show me?"

He raised his eyebrows, "Oh I'm sorry, do I owe that to you? Frankly, Targaryen, I don't give a fuck. I'm not eating tonight anyway."

"Why?"

He shrugged and turned, walking away.

"Asshole." Dany muttered.

She sighed, wishing now she'd headed Sansa's advice.

Dany made her way back to the split in the West Hall, pride left far behind her.

...

More students had gathered since her departure, conversation buzzing in the air like a current. She moved to sit at a vacant window couch, doing well to ignore the eyes that bore into her.

_It's nothing. Nothing but interest in a new student._

Dany sat, casting her eyes down, imagining an elastic sheild that might encase her; from the stares, the whispers, all of it.

After some stretch of time, minutes or hours lost on Dany, a bell rang out low and powerful. 

She stood and followed her new peers, the promise of food reigniting excitement in their talk.

Dany swung her head around, wanting nothing more than someome to talk to. She searched for auburn hair, and at last she saw it. 

Sansa was coming from Dany's side of the split, looking frayed. Dany forced her way through the crowd, waving at Sansa once they'd made eye contact.

"Where were you?" Sansa demanded.

"Exploring."

"Shit," She took a breath, "Sorry, I don't mean to be so pushy," she smiled, "Where'd you wind up?"

"Nowhere cool. I met someone."

"Who?"

"Jon."

"Which one?"

"There are multiple?"

"Dark hair, beard, and a bit broody?"

"Yes, exactly," Dant said,ready to rip into gossip.

Sansa grinned, "You met my brother, Jon. Well, half-brother, but, technicalities. Was he rude?"

Dany was stopped by the non-chalant 'half-brother' comment for a moment longer than she would've liked.

"A bit." She finally answered.

"He can be. But don't worry, he's a good guy, just slow to trust others."

Dany nodded, though she wasn't so sure. Her stomach knawed at her, audibly growling.

"Hungry?" Sansa asked.

"Starving," Dany said, hearing her own desperation.

Sansa giggled, "Let's go. People to meet, food to eat."

Sansa led her through the bath hall, turning left and going up a flight of stairs.

Figures.

...

The dining hall was: underwhelming. 

Gorgeous architecture, and many grand windows to display the splendor of the grounds. Dany had just been expecting something a bit more, magical? Perhaps. 

Twelve long tables streched the length of the dining hall, six to a row. Ten of which were packed thick with students, all contributing to the growing volume of the room.

The food was set up buffet style, spread impressive on a table that hugged the wall. Various dishes and drinks displayed themselves, some nearly gone, others untouched.

At the very end of the room, propped and expected, a single long table housed the staff.

Yet only three members took up the seats Dany estimated reached over fifty; A bald man, taking care to look everywhere but where one might catch his eye. A slender man, eyes searching the crowd for interest, plate full only of cherries and bread. And at the crux of the table, a woman. Imposing and smug, she looked only to the flagon of wine she filled her glass with. She had golden hair weaved to the resemblence of a crown on her head.

A twinge hit Dany's side, envy whispering in her mind. Strange.

She loaded her plate with a bowl of hot soup, taking bread and strawberries in her hands, a cup of water balanced on her tray. Sansa insisted Dany sit with her, guiding Dany to a half-vacant table. She set her food down precariously, taking time to let everything settle. Then she slid in next to Sansa, at the center of the table.

"Who's this?"

A girl, maybe two years younger than Dany, stared daggers at the silver haired beauty, bread dripping in soup.

"Daenerys," Sansa answered, indicating Dany, "This is Arya. My sister."

"Only by marriage." Arya quipped

"Ha."

Sansa rolled her eyes, a smile creeping on her lips even so. 

As their meal progressed, Dany met the boy next to Arya, Gendry. Next to him was Sansa's brother Robb, who flirted relentlessly with any girl that passed. Across Robb was Theon, who emulated Robb's cockiness, if not always his spirit. Beside him was Mya, a sweet girl who talked to Dany while also making eye contact, a kindness she'd not though to consider. Strangers filled the other half of the table and soon supper lay forgotten, gossip and anecdotes becoming the new fix everyone craved. 

Dany listened to each member of Sansa's party, wanting rather desperately to be wanted by them, too. 

Arya told her stories loud and boistrous, often drawing the attentions of people beside and behind them, all too often wacking Gendry in the face with her expressive arms.

Robb liked to recall his stories low and slow, pausing before every punch line.

Even Sansa joined in, talking with her hands and placing words in just the right combination to be charming and witty.

Dessert came an hour later, and Dany opted for nothing, belly still full of bread and soup, and the sweetest of strawberries.

She was happy to sit and listen, but in the faintest of frequencies, Dany wondered why none of them had stopped to ask of her. They exchanged pleasantries and introductions, but no one cared for much more. Careful, always, what you wish for. 

The group was recovering from a bout of laughter at Robb's regailing of why he and Theon where banned from Lush when Arya switched her gaze to Dany.

"What about you?" She confronted, eyes hard and intimidating.

"Sorry, what?" Dany asked, wishing she'd payed better attetion.

"Anything regretful you've done?" 

Dany wanted to trust Arya meant well, but mischief radiated from her being, the way calm radiated from Sansa, or how pathetic radiated from Joffrey. It was a frightening attention to have.

Dany's mind blanked, the party's eyes fixed to her, all itching to hear of what the Targaryen heiress might admit to.

"Not to dissapoint, but no. Nothing wild about me."

"C'mon," Robb said, "Any skeleton's in your closet?"

Dany shook her head, "None."

"Bullshit!"

"Arya!" Sansa snapped, narrowing her eyes.

"Sorry. But Sansa, aren't you curious?"

Sansa kept quiet. So she was curious. Interesting.

"What do you want to know?" Dany offered, eager to take control of this interrogation.

"Oh, I know!" Theon said, clasping his hands, "Do Targaryen's really drink blood to stay alive?"

"Like vampires? No."

Robb thwacked Theon on the side of his head. It _was_ a dumb question.

"Do you really walk through fire?" Mya offered, poking her head to look at Dany.

"I- I've never tried. I couldn't say for sure."

"Ooh," Mya said, sinking back.

"I've got one." Arya declared.

Dany faced her, dreading what might be brewing in her mind.

"Did you really kill your brother?" She asked, lowering her voice for dramtic effect.

Dany's smile left, her eyes becoming shrewd and cold.

"Goodnight." 

She stood, not yet sure if leaving was even an option. She walked swiftly, ignoring the group's calls for her to come back until only Sansa insisted she stay. 

Fuck them.

Dany made her way out of the dining hall, keeping her face a mask of anger and hate. Only when she walked alone down to the Bath Hall did her facade crack, tears choking the back of her throat.

She sped to her room, pushing away the rationale that insisted she go back and apologize, the fury that demanded Arya Stark's tounge cut from her throat. Nothing but fear ruled her now.

_They don't understand._

_What else do they know_ _?_

Any possibility horrified her.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. Sansa Stark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry to take so long, but my life's a bit hectic right now. Hopefully I can start doing uploads more consistently but who knows. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! 💛

"Arya."

"Sorry." She insisted. Sansa wanted to be angry, but Arya's eyes seemed a genuine reflection of guilt. Sansa knew she couldn't stay mad at her younger sister for long.

"It must be very difficult. Moving to a new school, especially this institution of disaster," Sansa said, gazing to the doors Dany had left from.

"And," Robb added, deciding to now act like the older brother he was, "Confronting someone with a rumor of a murder maybe isn't the welcome we should strive for."

"Ugh! You're just making me feel worse." Arya whined.

"Good! Maybe that'll teach you not to do it again." He snapped back.

"You're full of shit!"

"Don't curse!"

"Come _on._ You wanted to know too."

Robb was silent to that. They all were.

"Doesn't mean we should, or that it's any of our concern," Gendry said. Arya dropped her defenses to that. 

Sansa rolled her eyes; Arya was _exhausting._

"Murder isn't some washroom gossip," Mya said, eyeing the base of the table, "Her involvement with her brother's exists as speculation. If it were true, she wouldn't be at school. She'd be in prison."

Arya considered this, at last giving up. She looked only at Sansa, shame contouring her face, "I should apologize?"

Sansa nodded.

Arya sighed, but it was done.

Dinner was as well in all coincidence.

...

Walking school halls at night never ceased to excite Sansa. They always seemed more ominous; tapestries shifting in evening breezes, the golden embrace of lamps dying as the student hours came to their end, moonlight pouring from the windows like spotlights along the floor.

Gendry, Robb and Theon departed to East Hall, Arya and Mya sped to the Bath Hall, leaving Sansa alone to wander. She chose to take a round-about route to the West Hall, basking in the quiet and empty corridors.

Upon passing through the Moon Bridge and heard a muffled cry; held by heavy sighs and hitched breathing.

Sansa moved slow, hoping not to startle whomever was upset. In a corner, perched along a bench she saw silver hair spilling over shaking shoulders, it shone electric in the moonlight.

"Dany?"

Dany stiffened, "What?" She asked, coating her voice to be cruel and callous.

Sansa took a breath, then sat beside Dany, "I'm sorry."

Dany inhaled sharply; Sansa knew all too well the fight for composure.

"Arya's unruly. She didn't mean any harm, she just has no filter, like, _at all._ But. She took it too far, and I apologize."

Dany sniffed, nodding absently, "It wasn't her question. It was the silence after. I'm no stranger to accusation; but six eyes boring into you, all curious as to wether you're a- a murderer?"

"I'm so sorry." Was all Sansa could manage.

She bit back every urge to ask, 'are you?' Mya was right. Sansa felt awful to even question it.

"And," Dany said, exaggerating her pathetic state just a bit, "I'm lost."

Sansa nodded, "It can feel that way. Especially at a new sch-,"

"No," Dany interjected, "I mean I have no idea how to get back to my room."

"Oh."

Silence held their tension before they both broke into laughter. Dany's filled the hall, warm and mirthful.

"I can help with that, at least." 

Sansa stood, offering Dany her hands. Dany took them with strength, hoisting herself up.

"Thank you."

...

The clock tower rung at nine p.m. when the two breeched Dany's room. Their walk had been in relative quiet, each consumed by thoughts neither wished to voice.

Sansa thought of the note she'd recieved in spite of herself. She had managed to put it from her mind, but as shadows stretched along the floors, lamps burning dim, it's warning rung in the back of her mind:

_Only wolves howl at night._

_Will you endure?_

Endure what?

"Thank you," Dany said, severing Sansa from her paranoia.

Sansa smiled, "Of course."

"And I'm sorry. For leaving so abrupt."

"Granted, you were accused of murder. I'd leave too. You don't need those vibes."

Dany laughed, "'Those vibes'?"

Sansa shrugged, a grin stretching along her face.

Dany unlocked her door easily enough, sliding the key back into her pocket.

The Stark girl knew this ought to be where they parted, but she didn't want to. Not yet.

She stepped into Dany's room, racking her brain for a reason to converse, closing the door out of curtisey.

"Nice to be alone." Was the best she could mange.

"What?"

"I mean, no roomate." 

That wasn't any better. "I meant; it's nice, not to have a roomate."

"Oh," Dany said, sitting on the edge of her bed, "I suppose."

Sansa stood there, knowing she should go, yet still convinced she should stay; just a bit longer.

A small click came from Dany's door, followed by two more prounounced clicks of locks sliding into place.

Dany raised an eyebrow, staring at the door. Shivers skated up her back, but Sansa went to the door anyway, pulling on the handle.

"It's locked," She said, confusion pounding in her mind.

"What?"

Sansa tugged the handle twice more to no give at all.

"Why is it locked?" Panic had settled in Sansa's inflection.

Dany stood, arms crossed protective at her stomach.

"Maybe it's an automatic lock? To prevent people from sneaking out?"

Sansa considered this. She wouldn't put it past the tortuous adults who operated this institution. She checked her phone. 

It was 9:08.

"I wouldn't be shocked. But why lock it at such a strange time?"

"I can try my key."

"Oh! Duh. Yeah, that should do it." Sansa moved aside while Dany dug through the pocket of her dress. Dany's face fell, eyebrows furrowing.

"I don't have it."

She dropped down, peering beneath the crack between floor and door.

"Shit." She cursed, slumping over, "I dropped it. It must've fallen from my pocket. It's on the other side of the door."

"Perfect," Sansa said, sarcasm her only response to the absurdity of their situation.

"Could you call someone?"

Sansa considered this. Mya was a no, she usually fell asleep at 8:45, no exceptions. Robb and Arya would never let her live it down, neither would Myranda. Maybe Jeyne Poole would've come through, but she wouldn't be back till the end of the quarter. Asking Theon meant Robb would find out, and then he'd _really_ never let her live it down. Only one person left.

"Yes."

She pulled out her phone, typing the number in quickly, desperate for an explination that might favor her plea.

"Sansa?" A voice asked, honey sweet and authentic.

"Hey, Margaery."

"What is it?"

"I'm kind of in a situation."

"Did you get locked out again?"

"More like locked in."

"What?" Sansa could hear the laughter in Margaery's tone.

"Look, I'm locked in room 365 L and I need you to come and unlock it."

"Sansa," her voice was frustratingly cavalier, "Why are you in room 365 L?"

"I was talking with Danaerys-,"

"'Talking?'"

" _Yes._ "

She snorted, "You're a riot."

Margaery was going to hang up and Sansa had no idea how to keep that from happening.

"No, Margaery-,"

"See ya tommorow, you wildling you."

"Margaery!" But she'd already hung up.

Shit.

"Well?" Dany asked.

Sansa shook her head, re-routing her options. 

Finally, she swallowed her pride and dialed everyone she could think of. Most either declined her call or let the phone ring. Arya picked up, but her response mirrored Margaery's. Sansa even called Jon, but he was too groggy to completely understand what Sansa meant, so eventually she hung up on him.

"Who the fuck is tired at 9:30?" She exclaimed, tossing her phone to Dany's bed.

Dany still sat on the floor, back propped against the wall. She shrugged.

Sansa moved to the window, opening it. Perhaps the fresh air would foster a coherent thought.

She gazed down to the gardens. Dany really had an exceptional view. Mountains rising and falling to her right, the gardens stretching far along her left.

A thought sprang forth in Sansa's mind; all at once idiotic and exceptional.

The West Hall was an old building, it's outer walls built from stone and concrete. The stones popped out and caved in, some crumbling and some ageless in the moonlight. Plenty of grips. Maybe three stories down.

"Dany?" She asked, her plan formulating quite exactly before her.

"Yes?"

Sansa turned to her, eyes crazed and wide from what she inteded to do.

"Give me a boost."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
